Fizzle
by The Elfmaniac
Summary: [ one shot ] The coffee was always bitter, like the feeling of being alone. [ EddieGwen, PeterGwen ]


**Title: **Fizzle

**Author:** The Elfmaniac (Erin)

**Rating:** T, for language and some themes.

**Pairings:** one-sided Eddie/Gwen, Gwen/Peter

**Summary: **The coffee was always bitter, like the feeling of being alone.

**Disclaimer:** Obviously don't own the movie, nor am I making any money off of this story.

**Notes:** I'm easing into the Spiderman genre; I have this plot bunny for a chaptered Harry/Gwen bit, but I'll wait on that for a while. o.o;  
This is a one-shot. Meaning. One chapter. No more. Nada. Zip.  
It enjoys reviews as much as chaptered things do.

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The aroma filled his senses, clouding his lungs and nostrils. The scent was heavy in the ear, filled with coffee and other smoky notes that he couldn't identify. Hazlenut and whipped cream, chocolate and mint; all the flavors that he was too afraid to request. He could barely pronounce half the drinks on the menu, and his masculinity told him to be embarrassed if a woman had to correct him. So, he puffed out his chest, stood tall, and informed her that he'd have a 'black coffee, none of that weird stuff'.

A frappalappadingdongespressacino, somehow, didn't sound very appealing to him.

Edward Brock, Junior tapped his long fingers against the table, making a hollow sound against the wood. His gaze was somewhere between the smoke rising out of his own mug, and the large window. it was funny; he never saw people actually _looking_ in them, to see the menu or see how business was. The vain people always used the slight reflection to check how they looked.  
Speaking of vain people.

She swept in like a hurricaine; Eddie only had a moment to straighten out his hair (the best he could), as she primped by the window. She always looked _amazing_ to him, so he didn't see why she even bothered to keep her apperance up. Even that one day when Gwen Stacy had _insisted_ she looked bloated (which she _had_, as a result of an allergic reaction to daisies), Eddie had managed to see the bright side and show her what he was seeing. The lense, when angled right, wiped away imperfections the rest of the world saw, getting to the nitty-gritty. On that day, she had praised him for his work, what she named the most _beautiful_ picture from the _most talented_ photographer, ever. He had grinned hard enough that his cheeks were still sore; Eddie's jaw creaked from that experience. It was all for _her_, though, because he loved her.

She was dressed to the nines, with a sleek black dress...the photographer looked down at himself, at the worn denim and navy jacket, wondering if she had got the message that it was just a coffee date. Well, sort of. If things went right, he was hoping to take her home with him tonight. Gwen always had an arsenal of excuses, but he assumed he was depleting her sources, now. He had to poke and prod a few more times, and maybe, just _maybe_, she would give up and run straight into his arms. All those cheesy motown tunes popped into his head at the thought, his head bobbing to an imaginary tune. The good thing about the man was his memory-- anything that went in, stayed in, no matter how trivial the knowledge.

His brief reverie prevented him from hearing the tinkle of the bell, hanging before the door.  
Eddie did, however, hear the familiar 'tch!' of _her_ heels. He knew they were her heels, because the step was dainty, like a real lady's should be. He looked down, seeing the strappy stilettos and Gwen's nimble legs, continuing up her body.  
Slender waist, wide hips, ample cleavage.  
How the hell had the gawky cameraman (with a good sense of humor, to his credit) ever land such a _sexy_ lady?

"Hi, there, Eddie!" she greeted, bubbly tones completely infectious. Any doubts Eddie had were washed away in that simple phrase everyone used with him at least a million times a day (no exaggeration). He grinned, hearing the infamous creak in his jaw. The man was only able to grin like this around _Gwen_, _his_ Gwen. Anyone else who dared to get a hold of any part of her would answer to _him_; it may seem like a lofty threat, but he was a Catholic. He had God on his side.  
And Jesus. And Mary. And Superman, of course.

"Hey, Gwen," he responded, springing up, sliding over to her. She gave him a quick hug, as well as placed a chaste kiss to his lips. Eddie barely had enough time to register it, returning the jackass grin. "Wow, nice to see you, too," he nearly growled, sliding one hand to her waist, leading her to the chair. Gwen didn't giggle, tonight, for some reason. He didn't mind-- he had lots of time to get that little laugh out of her.

"Eddie, I can't stay too long," she said, reaching over to clasp his mug in her hands. Gwen took a long sip, setting it down, looking up at him with wide, blue eyes. "I have a date with someone."  
"Right, with me!" he said proudly, skipping over a few choice words. He zeroed in on 'date', forgetting the first part of the sentence. Well, if not forgetting (given his sharp intellect), ignoring. It was like speed-reading in Journalism 101.  
"No, with someone..._else_, Eddie," Gwen explained, steepling her fingers together. He felt his chest tightened, as if he was being fired.

_I'm sorry, Eddie. You've been a good addition to this team for a while, now; however, some things have come up. I've started to notice that you're a complete and utter loser. You've done well, though, a real asset to this business. Hand in your namebadge hat and dignity, please. It's not us, it's you, pal. _

"...what?" he stuttered out; he wished he had been sitting down for this news. Eddie felt faint, like he was sweating, like his heart was about to explode through his chest. He wanted to scream and cry and curse anyone who would listen, shake his fist...it wasn't fair. This wasn't fair.  
He licked his lips, wanting some further explination.

"With Peter Parker. He's so talented, you see. He got the staff job, he's _handsome_...oh, Eddie, I'm sorry. I thought you knew we were just _friends_?"  
Eddie stared at her. He was talented. He _had_ the damn staff job, until Parker took it away from him. Eddie was handsome (so he was told), albeit a bit thin. He was perfect for Gwen. They would have amazingly attractive children, perhaps ones that would grow up to become leaders of the free world. Or models.  
Maybe actors.

"Gwen...I thought..." he trailed off, not exactly sure _what_ he had thought. Eddie looked up at her, eyes searching her face, the high cheekbones and the warm smile that betrayed her purpose. He longed to reach out and touch her, but assumed that it would be inappropriate. Of course, being dumped did not constitute a quick grope. His palm fell to the table, gaze falling to his fingers. He flexed them, frowning; he was pathetic, wasn't he?  
"Oh, Eddie! I told you...it was just _coffee_."

Just _coffee_.  
He knew exactly how she liked _her_ coffee.  
One of those exotic things that he could barely pronounce, but did so for her. Three creams in that, despite the fact it was already brimming with a million types of flavors. She liked it incredibly hot, too, for some reason-- regular-coffee-heat was not good enough for her.  
"Yeah; I know," he finally conceded.

Gwen gave him an apathetic look, brow furrowed with what seemed like worry. He frowned to himself, sighing, rubbing down his arm. "Gwen...you know, I love you," the photographer informed her, letting the walls and defenses down. He did love her. Wanted to be with her, always, forever. Cheesey. But totally and utterly true.

"I'm sorry. I have a date," she sighed, standing. Gwen was always quick, beginning even strides to the door, the stupid, loud heels making more noise than necessary. It was all that he could hear, watching her leave. Eddie tried to form words, reaching out, finally stumbling from his own seat. His fingers, somehow, managed to close around the back of her dress, trying to get her to stop. "Eddie!" she almost _screamed_, breath harsh in the night air. She squirmed away, tripping over her own feet.

A small thud-- she landed on the concrete, looking back at him with large, frightened eyes. "Eddie..."  
"Gwen, I...I don't...want...don't..."

She nearly leapt to her feet. "Eddie...I'm...you're a nice guy. I just...am not the right person for you, okay?" Gwen responded. "You're too nice. You're...you're not like Peter. Please, don't call me."  
She was begging. Eddie recognized that tone. He didn't respond, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep himself from grabbing at her, again. She didn't want him? Why not? He was edgy! He had _lied_ to get her attention, to get money for her.

The distant ringing of a church came into his ears; Our Lady of Saints. That's what it was called.

Well, there was nothing better to do.

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